A/N: I couldn't help but write a story that was all about Fergus Cousland. It's not going to be an overly long one, but I had to write something about what happened to him all that time that he was gone. I really hope you guys enjoy it, and as always, I appreciate your feedback.

He was nervous. He was eager to be on the road with his father, but it didn't help that he was so nervous. He paced around his room for what felt like hours, trying to get himself packed and ready to go. They were leaving tonight, along with the Arl of Amaranthine, and riding to Ostagar to fight the most important battle that he had ever been a part of.

The last battle he remembered was one that nearly got him killed. He had left Highever for the Free Marches, helping to push back armies that attempted to attack the northern seaboard. An arrow had struck his armor and managed to pierce through to his chest leaving him gasping for air and desperate for help. Healing magic had helped him, but not enough that he was able to continue fighting, and he was sent home on the earliest ship back to Ferelden soil. He pulled down the collar of his cotton shirt, and touched a finger to the scar that remained years after. For a second he felt a chill run the length of his spine, and just as quickly, the feeling was gone, and he remembered how invigorating he had found that battle. Even more so, was the fact that this time, he would be fighting alongside his father.

He stopped for a moment and stood staring at the open satchel that lay on his bed. It was full. Near overflowing. Still, he was certain he had forgotten something. Something is missing, he thought. I know it. He rubbed his face with a shaky hand, and turned, looking around the room only to laugh at himself. Before him, was an open armoire, and it was near empty. Everything but the colorful garments he wore around the estate and in the public was gone, stuffed almost recklessly into the bag he packed.

"Fergus?"

"Hm?" The woman's voice startled him, and he spun around to see his mother enter the room. She smiled warmly as she usually did, and it seemed to put him at ease. "Maker's breath, you scared me."

"Nan is preparing supper, dear," she said still smiling. "You will join us before you and your father leave?"

"Of course, Mother," he responded. He sounded almost breathless, and the look in his eye told his mother that something was amiss. She moved toward his bed, and gestured to him to sit with her.

"Fergus," she cooed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered quickly. He knew as well as she did that it was a lie, and he quickly forced himself to tell her the truth. "This is the first war I'll have fought in, in well over three years. And with Father at my side, no less. I know that I've trained, both with him and my sister... I just fear that I'll disappoint him. And nothing would shame me more than to see anything less than pride on his face, Mother."

"Your father is already proud of you, Fergus," she answered. "He always has been."

Fergus sighed. It had been his dream since he was a boy, to be as skilled a warrior as Bryce, and even now, a grown man, he wasn't sure he came close to measuring up to the man's expectations. He felt his mother wrap an arm around his shoulders, and he welcomed the hug she offered.

"Now," she said, pulling herself back to her feet. "Finish getting ready. I am off to spend a bit of time with Lady Landra and her son, and I shall see you at dinner. I love you, Fergus."

"I love you too, Mother," he answered. He watched her leave the room and when she was gone, he began to dress himself in the veridium armor proudly given to him by his father some months before.

.

.

"Is there really going to be a war, papa? Will you bring me back a sward?" Little Oren looked to his father, and Fergus could see himself in the boy's excitement and wonder.

"That's sword, Oren." Fergus said with a laugh, as he knelt to meet his son's gaze. "And I'll get you the mightiest one I can find, I promise. I'll be back before you know it."

"I wish victory was indeed so certain." Oriana looked distressed, her voice showing less faith than the woman herself possessed. "My heart is... disquiet."

"Don't frighten the boy, love. I speak the truth." Fergus told her, doing his best to reassure her, even though he himself knew little of how the war was going to end. He turned to see his sister shyly entering the room, her head hanging sadly. "And here's my little sister to see me off."

"I wish I didn't have to," she answered quietly. "I wish I could go with you."

"I wish you could too," Fergus said sadly. "It'd be fun, fighting side by side... Maybe next time."

"Hey, did you know there was a Grey Warden in the castle?" Saraya asked.

"I did," Fergus answered, his brow raised. "Did you happen to find out why he's here?"

"He says he's recruiting," she said. "He wants to test Ser Gilmore."

"Really? Well, sister, if I were a Grey Warden, I'd have my eye on you," he said firmly. "Though, you and I both know, Father would never allow that."

"You know," Oriana interrupted. "In Antiva, a woman fighting in battle would be... unthinkable."

"Yes well, this isn't Antiva," Saraya answered, more harshly than she meant to. "Besides, if it were so unthinkable here, Father never would have trained me in the first place."

"Alright, alright." Fergus loved seeing his wife and sister debate, but now was not the time, and he forced himself to intervene. "Where is Father anyway, Sister?"

"Oh," Saraya said quickly. "He told me to tell you to go on to Ostagar ahead of him. Howe's men are running behind."

"They are delayed? You'd swear they were all walking backwards," Fergus answered with a sigh. "I guess this is it then. I'll miss you, sister."

"And I you, Fergus. Please, for Andraste's sake, be careful out there."

"I'll be fine," he said confidently. "Take care of everyone, and be here when I get back."

"Just make sure you get back."

Saraya wrapped her arms tight around her older brother, and had to force herself to let him go. Their mother and father walked into the room as she said her final good-byes, and she did her best to hold back tears, refusing to let anyone in the room see her cry. Fergus knew though, that she wasn't as strong as she liked to pretend, and her sadness broke his heart.

"She's not handling this very well," he said to his father. "She really wanted to come, you know."

"I know," Bryce answered quietly. "But her place right now, is here. And her work here is just as important as what we have to do."

"You think she can handle running the castle by herself? You're leaving soon too, aren't you, Mother?"

"In a few days, yes," Eleanor answered. "But she'll be fine while I'm gone. It's you in this war that I'm more worried about, Fergus. I will be praying for your safety every day that you're gone."

"I'll be fine, Mother," Fergus said, forcing a laugh. "I can handle a few darkspawn. I'm sure I'll freeze to death in the rain before I'm bested by those beasts."

"Well, how comforting it is to hear you say that," Oriana said dryly.

Fergus turned and kissed his wife on the head before lifting Oren into his arms and hugging him tight. "Take care of your mother and auntie while I'm gone."

Before he left, Oriana bowed her head and prayed. "The Maker sustain and preserve us. Watch over our sons, husbands, and fathers and bring them safely back to us."

.

.

"How far behind are they, then?"

"I don't know," Fergus answered. "A day or two at least? Nothing like being on time, right?"

"I think it's nonsense," replied one of the young soldiers riding with him. "The king ordered us to be there, and I'm willing to wager my last coin that he's going to be madder than a genlock riding a rainbow when we arrive without Howe... or your father."

"I've got no argument there," Fergus said. "They should be on their way soon enough though. And you'd better believe I'll have a few words for the Arl when I see him again."

Traveling with Fergus were several of his father's own men, a couple of mages from the Circle who had been working under Teryn Cousland for the past while, and a few other men who had taken up arms with them on the road. They had traveled for nearly a full day, and still had another day or so to go before reaching Ostagar. Fergus couldn't help but notice that one of the mages was not only quiet, but looked rather ill.

"You there," Fergus said, looking back at the mage. "Are you going to make it alright? You don't look well."

"He's nervous, ser," another mage answered for him. She was an older woman, and had seemed to take the younger lad under her wing during the trip. "He's never been to war, and his nerves are making him ill, I think."

"I know the feeling, then," Fergus said, showing sympathy, while at the same time trying to keep up morale amongst the people he rode with. "Trust me, it may frighten you now, but once we get out there, that fear will turn into excitement. You'll forget about how scared you are in no time, I promise. In the meantime, why don't you take a horse?"

Fergus waited a moment for someone to offer up their horse for the young mage, but no one did. He assumed it was because most were uncomfortable traveling with mages, but at the same time, he scoffed at them for their lack of consideration.

"Here," he said, pulling the reigns of his own horse tight, and bringing the pally to a stop. "Take mine."

"R-Really, ser?" The young man seemed amazed that anyone would show him compassion, especially being part of a lesser appreciated group of people. "You're... certain? W-What if you get tired yourself?"

"Would I offer it otherwise?" Fergus asked with a grin. "Come on. Get off of your feet for a while, and try to relax. If I get tired, I'll just hop in the wagon there and rest."

"Thank you, ser!"

Fergus smiled at the boy as he mounted the horse, obviously happy to be seated for a change after walking all day. He felt good himself, being able to get off the damned mare. Her slow and steady trot, combined with the constant bounce upon her saddle had made him sore, and he had started to yearn for the ground to be beneath his feet.

.

.

They had traveled for two and a half days so far, and the third day almost seemed to fly by as they continued on. Most of the people traveling with Fergus had never been so far from home, and he could see that some of them were beginning to miss the places they were from as they passed through towns on their way to Ostagar.

Half way through their third day, they had almost finished passing through the Hinterlands and many looked on in marvel at the Frostback Mountains off in the distance. They were close enough to the mountain ridge that the ground beneath them was solid, but still far enough away that they didn't have to stretch their necks to see the mountain peaks. The forest that surrounded them was filled with life, and several soldiers began to whistle, singing back to the birds that seemed to greet them.

The sun seemed to beam down encouragingly, almost as an omen that this war was in fact going to go better than they had planned, and it had everyone in high spirits, including the young mage that Fergus had given his horse to.

Fergus thought about many things that day. Oriana and Oren were frequently on his mind, and he wondered how they were doing. By now, his sister had taken over Castle Cousland, and his father would be well on his way to joining everyone at Ostagar. Deep in the shadows of his mind however, the coming battle seemed to haunt him. He feared that things might not go as well as they hoped, but he forced the thoughts aside, refusing to believe that anything would happen that they couldn't handle.

"Another hour or so," a soldier called to him. "Not long now, I reckon."

"Good," Fergus replied. He smiled, mostly for the purposes of keeping everyone content and confident, and partly because he was thrilled that he would soon be in battle. He was raised a warrior's son, and he enjoyed being out in the field almost as much as he enjoyed being with his family.

He began to smile even more as the towers at Ostagar finally began to come into his view. Several of the soldiers cheered, while some sighed in relief or contempt. Fergus could feel his heart begin to beat with excitement. More exciting was the anticipation of fighting along side his father, and putting and end to the blight before it even got started.